


i'll fall for you soon enough

by pressforward



Series: I'll Prepare a Place for You [3]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: (bless his heart), (one handjob. one single handjob), ... also is it really a work by me unless there are puns?? i think not, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Not that much plot, Overstimulation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Trans Kurapika, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, a nightmare parfait of benign dissociation, guess who's still bad about talking about feelings (it's obviously kurapika), happier ending, happy....? ending?, i think half my margin notes for editing were 'oh god you idiot', i'd like it to be known that kp's pov for this was a nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-21 00:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21290537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressforward/pseuds/pressforward
Summary: Sequel toWhen You Come HomeCompanion piece toi found me a hopeless caseAlso known as: Kurapika has had two full therapy sessions and a 6 month sojourn, and decides It's Time.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Series: I'll Prepare a Place for You [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534757
Comments: 13
Kudos: 176





	i'll fall for you soon enough

**Author's Note:**

> **Content warning: Very brief allusion to a previous unsavory sexual encounter**
> 
> Part two of the very special smut with feelings extra! Knowing what happens in the main fic is not necessary. Timing-wise, this takes place an undisclosed amount of time after ‘When You Come Home.' I said '6 months' but I'm willing to faff that.
> 
> Title from ['Sonsick’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1czCNnPyHlw) by San Fermin. Take a listen for the secret second half of the title ;>
> 
> Series title from ['Casanova'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ykcsKvqFPUE), also by San Fermin.

He’s agreed to meet Leorio at a conference, something involving surgery. Leorio offered to procure him a guest pass, but he declined; he has business of his own to attend to in the next few days.

Now, though, he is standing in front of the hotel doors: solid sensible wood in a brownstone facade. Not cheap, but not expensive either. Suitable for business and academic purposes. He takes a deep breath, then pushes the door open and enters.

Leorio is already in the lobby, sitting in one of the chairs by the front desk, apparently engrossed in something on his phone. Hard to tell how long he’s been there, but he shows no immediate signs of impatience. Kurapika lingers by the entryway a moment longer, then slowly heads towards the seating area.

Leorio looks up, En sweeping briefly through the lobby. He’s gotten much better. Then he spots Kurapika and grins.

Kurapika freezes. There’s still time to run. Melody will be disappointed, but she won’t beleaguer the point. There are plenty of other rooms available in the city, but Leorio is already approaching, waving like he’s not sure Kurapika has seen him yet.

He looks well. 

“Hey Kurapika,” he says, and he is still tall, still all genuine easy fondness underneath the professional veneer he tries to cultivate and the rakishness he can’t quite scrub away. “How’s it hangin’?”

Crass. “Fine,” Kurapika says, brings his suitcase to rest. “You seem well.”

“Yeah, I’m doing all right,” Leorio says, then jerks his head towards the front desk. “C’mon, check-in started like fifteen minutes ago. This place wanted a fee for early arrivals, would you believe?”

“Unusual.”

“I think they know they’re mostly dealing with doctors, so they just charge for everything they can get away with,” Leorio confides in an undertone, then turns an opportunistic smile on the receptionist as he leans on the counter. “Hey, checking in under ‘Paladiknight,’ like ‘knight’ with a ‘k.’ The k’s silent. … Yeah. Two beds.”

Kurapika waits behind him and to his left, follows when he finishes his exchange and says, “Come on,” heading towards their room. Or, his room, that he was provided and is now sharing with Kurapika.

“Here’s your key,” Leorio says in the elevator, handing him a card. “You said you had something tomorrow morning?”

Kurapika tucks it away in his jacket pocket. “Late morning,” he says, and Leorio waits, clearly expecting more detail, but he only presses the button to close the elevator doors. “Which room?”

“403.”

“Like your exam number,” Kurapika says.

“What,” Leorio says, face going blank. 

“Your… exam number. During the license test to become Hunters. Where we met Gon and Killua.”

“I guess it was,” Leorio says, examining his own card and the envelope it came in. “You remembered that?”

“Yes?”

“Huh. Kinda weird.”

“How so,” Kurapika says, eyes narrowed. “I remember my number, and yours was one ahead of mine. I remember Gon’s as well.”

“Sure,” Leorio says.

The elevator door dings open before Kurapika has a proper rebuttal, so he only says, “It’s not weird!” as they file out of the elevator, Leorio scoffing to himself before glancing at a hallway sign and turning right. Kurapika rolls his eyes, gives it up. It’s not worth mentioning any longer.

Their room is nearly at the very end of the hall, and Leorio reaches it first, is already keying open the door, then pushing inside. He shucks off his loafers in two practiced motions, then disappears into the room. Kurapika follows more slowly, lets the door shut and lingers there. He could still leave. It would be more disruptive, but he could.

Leorio meanwhile has tossed his bag into the wardrobe and rid himself of his jacket, hanging it neatly and brushing out the wrinkles. Then he goes to drop onto one of the beds with a sigh, stretching himself out full-length and leaning to flick on a lamp on the bedside table.

Kurapika stays where he is, watching him uneasily. There is a great deal they still need to say, or at least there is a great deal _he_ has left unsaid, for better or for worse. When the invitation had first come, it had seemed as good an opportunity as any. Leorio initiated the encounter, and they are not in the middle of either crisis or disagreement. There may be no better time. Kurapika steels himself, then carefully edges closer, until he is just beside the foot of the bed. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, and Leorio looks up. “For… for the entire past year, especially. But for all of it. All the time since I’ve met you.”

“Not a problem,” Leorio says, reaching back to search for the TV remote. “I’d do it again. Maybe without all the almost dying parts, though.”

“I’m being serious!”

Leorio shrugs, locating the remote. “Me too.” Then he turns the television on and begins flipping through the channels.

Kurapika gapes at him. This was _his_ idea.

“I--” he begins, then lets go of his suitcase and stalks over to glare down at Leorio, who glances up, unimpressed, then gestures for him to move out of the way.

“You’re blocking the TV.”

“There’s nothing important on the TV right now.”

“Come on, I haven’t seen this episode yet.”

Indignant, Kurapika scowls down at him. He doesn’t seem to notice, but his inattention is too assiduously intent. Seconds pass, and there’s the briefest flicker of his gaze up to Kurapika, as though gauging his reaction.

“You’re baiting me,” Kurapika accuses him, scowl deepening, and Leorio just shrugs, grinning, then swings his feet to the floor and sits up.

“Yeah, it’s kinda easy when you get the hang of it.”

“You just happen to be remarkably irritating,” Kurapika snaps, then drops onto the bed beside him. “What do you think is so easy about it?”

Leorio shrugs and lifts the remote to change the channel. He considers the screen for a while before changing the channel again. Then he says, “You like being taken seriously. But there’s a lot you don’t wanna talk about when you get serious.”

Kurapika stills, hands settled loosely over his knees. “That’s…” he begins, then stops. He could argue, but there would be no point. After a moment, he says quietly, “Sometimes I worry you understand me better than I understand myself.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“I am serious, though. I am truly grateful for-- for everything. Last year.”

Leorio slouches back, still looking at the TV. “Like I said. I’d do it again.”

“I would like it if you didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, you and me both,” Leorio mutters. More sternly, he says, “I was really worried about you, y’know. It was scary for a while.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurapika says quietly. He clasps his hands together, does not look at Leorio’s.

“Nothing to be sorry for. Life gave you some shit you had to deal with. It happens.”

“Yes,” he says, heavy and sad again. He lets it settle as he was told to do, just to feel it. He swallows hard and says, “I suppose it does.”

“Hey,” Leorio says, sitting straighter and muting the television. “Hey, I don’t mean to stir up any bad shit, okay? Let’s maybe-- Maybe we should change the subject.”

“It would still be there, wouldn’t it?” Kurapika says, and it’s no large stretch to hear the bitterness, even to him. He sighs, briefly pinches the bridge of his nose. “I am sorry. I only mean… I may not have made it through some of the ‘bad shit’ without your assistance. You were very generous.”

“I just,” Leorio starts, then looks aside hastily. “I didn’t wanna lose you.”

He is too generous by far. “It was good of you to be concerned.”

“Why are you being so weird?” Leorio says, frowning at him. “You can just say ‘thanks’ and it’s fine.”

“Thank you,” Kurapika says, and it is inadequate. “I really… I am truly grateful.”

“No problem,” says Leorio, though it is patently untrue. “Anyway, you’ve said that like five times now. I get it, give it a rest.”

“I,” Kurapika begins, then sighs. “I can never repay you.”

“Ha! That’s true.” Leorio glances sidelong at him, one corner of his mouth pulling upwards. “I should make you do my laundry for a month.”

“I mean it!” Kurapika says sharply, scowling at him. it’s a serious matter, and he won’t escape it by teasing.

“Me too,” Leorio says, but he’s grinning, smug and barely contained. “Maybe two months.”

“Is that really what you think it would take?”

Leorio grimaces, then says, “I _really_ don’t like doing laundry.”

Kurapika rolls his eyes, lets it pass, makes a brief frustrated gesture with one hand. “Very well, then. Two months of laundry, in exchange for-- for an entire year of--”

“Don’t be stupid. Anyway, I know you’re a busy guy. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“I as well.” He hesitates, not entirely sure of how to proceed. They have called on occasion, which is information enough, but this is something entirely different. Then he says, “And how is your schoolwork?”

Leorio casts him a glance, eyes skeptical, mouth amused. “We just had a break, but it’s picking back up. What’s up with you? Still interning with Mizai?”

“Yes, for a while.” Then he adds quickly, “He’s offered me a position, but I’m still thinking it over.”

“Hey, that’s great! It might be a really good fit for you.”

“I’m still thinking it over,” he says again, and Leorio makes a face at him. Kurapika ignores him, says instead, “And how have you been, otherwise?”

”Aside from school? All right. I’m at a new clinic, and Cheadle’s given up watching me like a hawk. Good thing, because I really don’t think she had the time.”

“Is that all you do?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I go out for drinks with some friends sometimes, blow off some steam. It’s fun, why don’t you try it sometime?”

“I’ll pass.”

“Because of the drinks, or because you have no friends?”

“I have friends,” Kurapika says, stung.

Leorio _tsks._ “Linssen’s your informant now, Izunavi doesn’t like you, you don’t like Basho--”

“Izunavi doesn’t like me? Who told you that?”

“It’s _obvious,”_ Leorio says, leaning forward with a flat look, as though Kurapika is being foolish.

Kurapika frowns back. “I’m his student, he can’t have _disliked_ me.”

“Sure, like _that_ means anything. My stats prof hates me, but she teaches me fine.”

“Why do you think your statistics professor hates you?”

“It’s an early morning class right after my shift, so I always fall asleep. But anyway, who else is there? Melody says she has the trail of the last piece again, so she has to have been a no-show the last few months. Gon and Killua could drink if they wanted to--”

“They shouldn’t.”

Leorio waves a dismissive hand. “And you’re a prude.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

Kurapika grimaces at him. “Enough about me. Is that all you do? Occasional drinks with your _many_ friends?”

“Pretty much. I mean, I’m trying to date again, but honestly, I don’t know. I’m not sure I have time. Maybe for the right person.”

That doesn’t seem right, but then again, he hasn’t been paying close attention to this part of Leorio’s life. Kurapika hesitates, then ventures, “And what about…?”

“Uh?” Leorio says, looking baffled.

“Didn’t her name start with ‘En’? ‘In’?”

His expression clears. “Oh, Angine? Geez, aren’t you talking to Melody? That was months ago, at least get the updated gossip. Didn’t last. Too bad, but what can you do.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Leorio shrugs. “Well, better to figure it out early. We still talk. Maybe we’ll hang out again sometime, she was fun. We can probably be friends.”

“What,” Kurapika begins, then pauses and licks his lips, mouth suddenly dry. Leorio’s glancing over at him now, eyebrows raised.

Kurapika clears his throat and says, “It sounded like it was going well. What do you think… happened?”

Leorio shrugs, then leans back, a study in nonchalance. ”Who knows. She’s _beautiful,_ but maybe she just wasn’t my type.”

“You have a type?”

“I don’t know. Pretty. Smart. Legs for days. Good taste in jewelry. Little like you, I guess.”

It’s not subtle, but Leorio has never been. “Is that so?” 

“Yeah.”

The room is very dry, or at least the inside of his mouth is. Kurapika looks aside, then says, “Do you want any water?”

“I’m a little thirsty, yeah.”

He gets up to retrieve two bottles of water from the hotel mini-fridge, ignoring the exasperated little tsk of Leorio’s tongue against his teeth.

“You know we have to pay for that, right?”

“Your university is footing the bill. I don’t see what you have to complain about.”

“It’s the _principle_ of the thing,” Leorio says plaintively, and Kurapika laughs, turns in time to see his face brighten. Then Leorio coughs into a fist, resettles his expression.

Kurapika approaches him again, hands him one bottle of water. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Leorio uncaps it, takes a quick swallow before wiping his mouth and reaching around Kurapika to set it on the nightstand.

Kurapika sets his down as well, does not otherwise move. “You think I have good taste in jewelry?”

Leorio glances up at him, then reaches out to tap his right hand. ”No, these are pretty awful. Earring’s nice, though.”

“You think I have good legs?”

”Yeah,” he says, then sets his hand along Kurapika’s thigh, looking up at him. 

Kurapika shifts his foot forward, doesn’t break contact. So emboldened, Leorio curves his hand around so his fingertips can trail up along his inner thigh. 

“But that’s just a pattern of traits you’ve enjoyed in the past.”

“If you want to get _technical_ about it, yeah, I guess,” Leorio says conversationally, like his hand isn’t tracing the inseam up Kurapika’s left thigh. His eyes tell a different story, gaze dipping down briefly and traveling back up slowly, lingering.

Kurapika keeps his breathing steady, refuses to look down as he says, “Things could change, couldn’t they?”

“It’s kinda middle school, Kurapika, isn’t it? You trying to ask who I have a crush on or something?”

“Who you--” he repeats, baffled for a moment, hopes he’s imagining the tremor in his voice. He inhales, tightens his stomach to try and get rid of it, then says, “What do you think would be the right kind of person?”

“You first.”

“I don’t,” he says, is one step back without realizing it. Then he laughs, breathless and uneasy. “I mean, I never thought-- It would be easier to tell you what I didn’t think it would be.”

Leorio is watching him, hand lax, head slightly cocked. “Okay, shoot.”

He is… smug. Or teasing. Offering some type of opening as a form of enticement. Kurapika steps back in, shoulders level, looks down at him. “Brash. Impetuous. Someone who never bothers to think before he speaks.”

Leorio sneers at him. “Couldn’t stand the competition, could you?”

“You _idiot,”_ he says before he can think it through, because bait or not, this cannot be allowed to stand. “I’m talking about _you.”_

“Is that so,” Leorio says, diction crisp, then hooks both hands behind his knees to pull him closer.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“You think I’d do that?”

“Yes,” he says, beginning to unknot Leorio’s tie. “I really do.”

Leorio swallows hard, though he tries to hide it, then says, “Speaking of types, I kinda have a thing for blondes about your height.”

“I have a coworker who often acts as my double,” Kurapika says, pulling the tie free and dropping it on the floor. “I could connect you.”

”Sure, call’em up. Invite them over. The more the merrier, right?”

“Get on the bed.”

He does, scrambling back against the headboard, eager and appealing. Kurapika follows after, straddling him, hands on his shoulders. 

“Take off your shirt.”

“How are you such a bossy little shit?” Leorio demands, but his head goes back when Kurapika kisses him, and his hands fumble the button at his collar.

Kurapika undoes it for him, then moves onto the rest when he hesitates. Leorio drops his hands and lets him, head tilted back against the wall, though he leans forward to shrug off his dress shirt when Kurapika begins tugging it off his shoulders. He removes his undershirt as well after Kurapika plucks at it, tosses it aside and looks up at Kurapika expectantly, grinning.

It is unexpectedly difficult to hold his gaze. Kurapika glances aside, and Leorio laughs outright, then says, “What about you?”

“What _about_ me?”

“You ah. Dressing down at all?”

“I could.”

“Well fine, you don’t wanna take things off, you don’t have to,” Leorio says, rolling his eyes, and Kurapika hisses beneath his breath, undoing his belt and tossing it aside. Then he takes Leorio’s hands and puts them to the lowest button on his shirt and says, “I believe you owe me a favor.”

“I don’t think that was really a _favor,”_ Leorio says, but he is unbuttoning them regardless. Once they’ve all been undone, he slides the shirt off, one arm at a time, then tosses it to the floor.

Then he turns his attention to Kurapika’s undershirt, takes the material between two fingers, head cocked slightly, before tugging at the hem. When Kurapika nods, he pulls it off and tosses it aside, gaze traveling up and down.

“Oh!” he says, makes a small pleased sound, hands settling over Kurapika’s chest. “Look at that. Good for you!”

He leans in to kiss the hollow of Kurapika’s collarbone, palms sliding to his ribs, and Kurapika flushes, says, “Thank you,” though not as steadily as he’d like.

“Been a long time coming, I was getting worried about you.” Then Leorio brings his hands up, fingertips brushing just at the edge of one scar, and says, “Can I… is this sensitive or sore?”

“No,” Kurapika says, then adds hurriedly, “You can. Please.”

Leorio settles his hands flat, slides them down along Kurapika’s ribcage. Then he pulls back slightly and slouches to examine the seams, head cocking, expression thoughtful. He carefully traces a fingertip along one, then leans in to kiss Kurapika’s shoulder. “They did good work. Sutures were nice and tidy.”

“Will you please focus?”

“I’m focused,” he says, but he is laughing, breath already coming faster, mouth warm against Kurapika’s chest. His hands are steady and gentle, running up over the scars to flatten over the now-visible planes of his chest. It is unfamiliar… unnerving, almost, but also almost pleasant.

Leorio’s hands trail down towards his hips, and he pauses in kissing a line down to Kurapika’s stomach to gently touch an older scar, on his left side, just a little beneath his ribs.

“How does this shit happen to you,” he says softly.

Kurapika shrugs, hands braced on the wall, elbows on Leorio’s shoulders. “Occupational hazard,” he replies, shifts to indicate Leorio should continue. There’s a great deal about that night he doesn’t remember clearly, and he’d rather not dwell on it.

Leorio scoffs quietly, hand curving over his side, covering the scar. “Yeah, real tough guy you are.” Then he presses his forehead to Kurapika’s shoulder, hands on his hips and pulling him close.

The nearness is still strange. How easy being close to someone can be, despite everything. There had been some bargains he hadn’t much wanted to strike in exchange for his family’s eyes, but unsavory characters will ask for unsavory things. One had wanted him to fight. Another hadn’t much cared either way. Understandable; he hadn’t either.

Someone else’s hands are on him now, though. Just Leorio, who has been kind to him before. Leorio, who will be kind to him though he has no reason to. 

He doesn’t realize he’s gone still until Leorio looks up at him, hands on either side of his waist. “You okay?” Leorio says quietly.

“Yes.” He settles onto Leorio’s lap, then hesitates. He lost track of his intentions; he’s not quite sure what he meant to do.

Leorio just watches him another moment, then says, “You wanna get on the bed?”

“Yes,” he says, and does.

Leorio settles next to him, slides a hand over his shoulder, thumb along the ridge of his collarbone. He must be able to feel the hammering of Kurapika’s pulse. How embarrassing. Kurapika bites his lip, turns pointedly to meet his gaze. He is not afraid. Or, at least, he is not afraid of anything Leorio will do to him. 

At first, Leorio seems content to do very little, only lie there and look at him. Then he shifts, and Kurapika braces himself, but he only moves slowly closer, then closer, then closer, and then no further. Kurapika waits, but he still does nothing else.

Neither of them say anything. It seems somehow more embarrassing to look away, so Kurapika does not.

Then Leorio makes a face and says plaintively, “Are you gonna make me do all the work here?”

Kurapika jerks back, then catches himself and resettles on the bed, scowling. “That was not my intention.”

“So come on, put your money where your mouth is.”

“I have never liked that phrase,” Kurapika says, still frowning. “The money is figurative, but the mouth is mostly not--”

_“Seriously,”_ Leorio says, rolling his eyes but beginning to laugh, and Kurapika says, “It’s just not a very tidy idiom,” then leans forward and kisses him.

“Maybe you’re not a very tidy idiom,” Leorio mutters, and Kurapika kisses him again, harder this time.

For all his disdain, Leorio is eager to kiss him back, gathers him close and turns so Kurapika is flat on the bed again, Leorio angled slightly above him. One of Leorio’s knees winds up between both of his, and one of his hands alongside Kurapika’s face.

Then it slides down along his throat, his chest, his waist, Leorio’s mouth on his all the while. Kurapika turns aside, panting, and Leorio only continues to kiss him, along his face, then his jawline, then neck. There should be more of that. Kurapika leans into his touch, conducts his own survey on the details of Leorio’s body, smoothing his hands over skin.

There is less hair than he either remembered or expected, and he may have grown thinner, long hours of schoolwork and studying having taken their toll. Neither a surprise nor cause for dismay. It is also possible his memories may be inaccurate, but he doubts it.

It is not a reason for concern, so he chooses not to concern himself with it. He instead runs a hand down the whole expanse of Leorio’s back, derives some satisfaction from how he arches into the touch. Leorio is as responsive as ever, offering a sharp inhale for a caress to his side, eyes shutting at a brush of fingertips to the base of his throat, a very slight, nearly half-moan when Kurapika hungrily searches out his mouth again, gripping the back of his neck and pulling him close.

Then he takes Leorio’s hand and guides it down. No questions, no other niceties, but he is sure his intent is clear. Leorio makes a small sound, goes still. Kurapika chances a look into his face, and there, instead of hesitation, is only surprise. Then, gratifyingly, desire.

“Yeah, sure,” Leorio says, and then leans forward. His hands roam, trailing heat, and trace a slow path from collarbone to ribs to hips. After a moment of fumbling with the belt buckle, he has the button of Kurapika’s slacks undone as well. Then the zipper, which he undoes slowly, though it is nothing but needless theatrics. Kurapika is already pulling the waistband loose, then down. He has never liked this style of pants, and the sooner they can be gone, the better.

Once he is free of slacks and underwear, both dropped off the side of the bed and good riddance, Leorio is sliding close again, not quite touching. Kurapika slides closer, and Leorio exhales unsteadily, then settles his hands on him again, one slipping behind his back, other below his waist.

Leorio’s palm is resting steady against his pelvis, fingers curling between his thighs. They move, settle lightly along the edges of his labia, and Kurapika tries not to squirm. It’s not a surprise. And it’s something he, in a sense, asked for. Or at least planned for.

Then Leorio says, “Okay?”

Kurapika nods, but it seems an insufficient response. So he steels himself, says softly, “Yes,” then turns to hook one leg over Leorio’s hip. Leorio shifts, then laughs to himself, quiet and disbelieving at the back of his throat, then says, “Okay,” and begins to stroke his way in.

It’s not particularly comfortable, or at least it isn’t until Leorio slips deep enough into him to coat his fingertips. Not sudden, not unpleasant, but very-- strange. Certainly very strange.

He wriggles, despite himself, and Leorio pauses. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing?”

“Why, does it feel weird?”

“A little,” Kurapika admits slowly.

“Want me to stop?” Leorio says, already beginning to withdraw his hand. “I can stop.”

“No!” he says, catching at Leorio’s elbow. “Don’t stop, I only meant. What is. Why are you just…?”

“I’m just feeling you. Maybe I just like feeling you.”

After a moment, Kurapika says, quieter than he would like, “Really?”

Something softens incrementally in Leorio’s expression. Kurapika tenses, but Leorio only says, “Well, yeah,” offhandedly as he bends to kiss to join between Kurapika’s neck and shoulder, then offers, “You can feel me, too. You can feel me allllll over.”

How absurd. Kurapika laughs before he can catch himself, laughs harder when Leorio grumbles, then purses his lips together to make a wet _blatt_ sound against his skin.

“I’m serious,” Leorio informs him once he stops laughing. Then he mutters, face burying against Kurapika’s neck again, “You should touch me. Like. Anywhere.”

A tall order. Kurapika considers him, his shoulders, the wide expanse of his back, his boxers, the slopes of his legs, then carefully settles his hand over the back of Leorio’s neck. After a moment, he slides it down, and Leorio sighs, kisses his throat, fingers stroking in one slow, steady motion. It’s not unpleasant.

Then he does it again, and while still peculiar, it is _distinctly_ not unpleasant.

Kurapika breathes in deep, and holds it, and Leorio snorts softly to himself. “It’s okay to make a little noise. You don’t have to be so cagey about everything all the time.”

“I will let you know when your input is needed.”

“I’d say there’s plenty of input happening right now,” Leorio says, fingers sliding out and then back in, deeper than before.

Kurapika bites the outer curve of his ear, and Leorio yelps, squirming, then turns his head slightly and says, voice half-caught at the back of his throat, “Lower.”

Kurapika obliges. Leorio makes small appreciative noises as he works his way along the outer ear, then groans when he applies teeth and tongue to the lobe. Strange man.

There is a tender little hollow further down, along Leorio’s throat, and he brushes it lightly with his fingertips to see how it might be received, continues downwards when Leorio sighs, his head tilting aside. He kisses there too, soft at first, then harder, and Leorio again makes a sound most like a tiny groan, then says hoarsely, “Hold up, I have to go schmooze tomorrow. No marks, okay?” 

Kurapika nips him, quick and light, and he says, disgruntled, “I swear to god, Kurapika--”

Then he swears abruptly, sucking in a breath, hips bucking against Kurapika’s hand. Kurapika readjusts his grip, runs his thumb up along the shaft of Leorio’s penis, and Leorio shudders again, says hoarsely, “You need to warn me before you do that.”

“No marks?”

“No marks.”

“Where they can be seen?”

“For someone who talks such a big game about honor, you’re kind of a conniving little sneak,” Leorio says, leaned in towards him with his eyes half-shut. He sounds almost fond. “Yeah, okay. No visible marks. Nothing too close to the shirt collar either, sometimes stuff gets rumpled.”

“Fine,” Kurapika says, cants his hips up towards Leorio, who returns his attention to working his hand between them. One finger comes up to nudge against his clit, and he exhales sharply, bends his head to Leorio’s chest and resettles his hand.

Each time he touches Leorio, Leorio touches him as well, either with a kiss or a caress or some combination of both, which is…

“Are you _incentivizing?”_ Kurapika demands, pulling back to try and glare down at him.

Leorio just cocks an eyebrow up at him. “Huh?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t get it,” Leorio says, making a show of being peevish. “Explain it to me.”

“I--” he begins, then has to take a breath as Leorio’s fingers curl deep inside him. “You know-- _exactly--_ what you’re doing.”

“Thanks,” Leorio says, then mouthes a kiss at him and winks.

Kurapika rolls his eyes, then bites his lip, heels restless against the sheets. “You really are very full of yourself.”

Leorio scoffs. “Look who’s talking,” he says, leans in to press a series of kisses to the side of his neck, hard and fast.

Kurapika makes a sound he would just as soon forget, wriggling and pushing at Leorio’s face. Startled, Leorio slides his hand away, then grabs hold of his waist and hauls him back from the edge of the bed. 

“Are you ticklish?” Leorio demands, incredulous.

“No!” he says, ready to push Leorio onto the floor if necessary. “Not at all.”

Leorio seems unconvinced. “But you _are_ sensitive right now?”

No sense denying it. “Yes.”

“Should we stop?”

Kurapika stills, looks back at him. If Leorio would like to stop, they can, but for himself… “No.”

“Got it,” Leorio says, then kisses a line down his throat, just enough to make him squirm. That bastard. Then he says, “Tell me when,” and slips his fingers inside Kurapika again.

His hands are gentle and sure, much at odds with his appearance and general demeanor. Possibly it is part of his appeal. Kurapika turns slightly towards him, reaching to hold his wrist steady, then slides an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer. Whatever Leorio is doing, he would like to encourage more rather than less.

He shuts his eyes, yields to the touch. It’s easy to, easier by far than it should be. Leorio’s intentness is a heady thing, his breathing so near, the feel of his lips, the press of his body, how his fingers stroke and curve.

There is one touch that is pleasant enough, though the sensation grows more and more acute as Leorio continues to rub against it, becoming nearly a jolt. Then it is only tension, nearly unbearable for a long moment, he clenches his teeth, forgets for an instant how to breathe. 

And as quickly as it came upon him, it is gone, and he is panting, eyes shut, letting Leorio pull him closer. He stays there until he catches his breath, then pushes slightly away, settles back on the mattress.

After a moment, Leorio shifts his weight slightly, seems to be propping himself up. Another moment, and Leorio says quietly, “You okay?”

Kurapika keeps his eyes shut, swallows hard. Then he nods, and says, “Yes.”

The mattress dips again, Leorio moving closer. “Hey, come on. Look at me. You okay?”

Kurapika frowns, then opens his eyes, rolls his head to the side to face Leorio. _“Yes._ Why do I need to look at you?”

“No reason,” Leorio says, but something in his posture eases. He’s very close, eyes dark and hair mussed, expression soft and nearly fond. He looks like a man who’s seen something wonderful. “Just wanted to see you.”

“You’re seeing me,” Kurapika says, mouth beginning to curve upwards despite himself.

“Just wanted to see you smile.”

It’s very trite! Startled, he laughs, and Leorio grins back, but it’s soft at the edges, a true rarity. Even half-asleep and nearly worn out, Leorio still pretends he is crass jokes and calculations all the way down. For all the good it does him.

“Sentiment is a good look on you,” Kurapika says without thinking and Leorio startles, eyes wide, shoulders drawing back and up before he catches himself and scoffs.

“I have lots of good looks,” Leorio says, defensive already, and Kurapika laughs, can’t help it. Of all the things to be offended by.

“You might,” Kurapika allows, finds himself still smiling. “But this one is appealing.”

“So none of the others are appealing?” Leorio demands, frowning at him.

“It’s _particularly_ appealing,” Kurapika says, then takes his face between both hands. “Fishing for compliments, on the other hand, is not.”

“Says you.”

Kurapika draws him closer. “Says me,” he agrees, and brings Leorio’s mouth to his.

Kissing him is easy. So easy to taste him and linger near, nip once at his lower lip, let his tongue slide in, let both their hands roam. Leorio is eager to kiss him, and good at it.

The thought nearly surprises him, but Leorio has pulled back already to kiss instead the side of his mouth, his cheeks, his jaw, light and lingering; not quite a break, but a moment to breathe. It is well done on his part, and Kurapika loops one arm around the back of his neck in response and brings him closer, seeks out his mouth again. Then he presses his hips to Leorio’s, legs straddling one thigh, and shifts, pushing Leorio to his back, mouth locked on his.

Leorio goes willingly, hands sliding down to Kurapika’s hips, bringing him closer. Kurapika grumbles, arching away, and against his mouth, Leorio only says, “Wuh--” then something sharp and startled as Kurapika goes to undo his belt buckle.

“It’s cold,” Kurapika informs him, though it is clear the bulge at Leorio’s groin disagrees.

“Yeah,” Leorio says, watching his hands. “Definitely.”

Then he shifts one leg until it brushes against Kurapika, who shuts his eyes, hands clenching as he settles against it. He is still clothed, so it is not ideal, not good enough to be distracted by, but still, he could brace himself against it, settle against Leorio, and let that series of events go where they may. It is an attractive thought.

Leorio, it seems, has similar ideas, because his leg shifts, then stills. Then he says, breath coming uneven, “There’s a, ah--” He pauses, teeth working over his lower lip. “I’ve got a condom in one of my pockets.”

“Ever the optimist,” Kurapika says, watching him.

“Yeah,” Leorio says, leans up to kiss his throat up and down. “It’s one of my best features.”

Kurapika reaches down to hook his fingers into Leorio’s belt, starts to work it loose.

“What, nothing to say to that?”

“I agree,” Kurapika says, and undoes the button on his slacks, pulls the zipper down. Then he reconsiders. “Which pocket?”

“Guess.”

Kurapika sits back and scowls at him. Leorio only grins back.

“Back right pocket,” Kurapika says. “Because you’re right-handed and a tease.”

“Wrong!”

He is not wrong. He settles his weight and reaches behind Leorio, who is making no effort to make this easy for him. He has to pull Leorio forward to get to the pocket at all, but his height still makes it an awkward reach. Grumbling, Kurapika manages it and--

Nothing.

“Left back pocket,” Kurapika says, sitting back and glaring. Leorio is already laughing at him.

“Sure! Go ahead.”

This time, Leorio is actively unhelpful, hands roaming and limiting Kurapika’s reach either purposefully or inadvertently, then sneaking a kiss to the side of his neck when he is distracted. Kurapika puts a hand over his face, reaches again with his right--

And again, nothing.

Leorio draws him close when he goes to sit back, and he grunts, makes a half-hearted effort to pull away, but Leorio just keeps hold and says, “You really wanna know?”

Kurapika sighs, exasperated. Of course he wants to know. When he doesn’t answer immediately, Leorio kisses his neck again, then along his jaw. Kurapika grits his teeth, head going to the side, then says grudgingly, “You may have piqued my interest, yes.”

“Right front pocket,” Leorio says, mouth against his ear, voice low. “Because I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist feeling me up.”

“You assumed a _great deal,”_ Kurapika says, fishing out the little foil packet before tossing it onto the nightstand. 

Leorio is laughing at him again. “Yeah, it worked out great for me, I was right.”

“I am _leaving,”_ Kurapika says, sitting back, one leg unfolding towards the floor, and Leorio leans against the headboard, hands folding behind his head as he grins.

“You’ll be back,” he says, but the curl of his mouth is somehow wrong. Then it disappears entirely, and Leorio is watching him, pose no longer casual, hands sliding down to the back of his neck, elbows folding in, as though he aches.

Kurapika pulls his leg back onto the bed, and they regard each other. Then Kurapika regards his hands, admits uneasily, “It wasn’t a good joke.”

“Make it up to me.”

He is too generous by far. After a moment, Kurapika says, “Let me guess: Laundry for a full year?”

“That sounds about right.”

And he is moving forward to press against Leorio, hands to chest, mouth to mouth, letting his weight bear both of them down. Leorio has both hands wound through his hair, firm but not tight, brushes it back where it falls into their faces. Even when he moves them, slides them down the back of Kurapika’s neck, over his chest, he never lifts them, doesn’t break contact with Kurapika’s skin. It is as though he is seeking to prolong the contact as long as possible, or else is afraid to let go.

Kurapika settles against him, then tugs at his pants as Leorio grumbles and shifts against him. Between them, they manage, though Leorio makes a hasty grab for his boxers before they’re pulled down as well.

“Not yet!”

Kurapika puts both hands on his shoulders instead, but Leorio is already sitting up, one arm braced behind Kurapika’s lower back. “Here,” he says, reaching behind him to pull the covers loose, fold them aside as he shuffles onto the mattress. “Better, right?”

Both these motions have brought him very, very close. Kurapika does not reply, still determining whether he should move back, or closer. In nearly all other situations, then back, certainly, but...

Leorio says, “Hang on,” then lifts him briefly, kicks another fold of the comforter out of the way, and there is no longer distance between them. It could be startling, but Leorio has never been subtle about his actions, and also his proximity is sufficiently distracting. Kurapika has both arms about his shoulders after an instinctive grab for stability, then is reluctant to let go.

Leorio, meanwhile, is staring up at him, still holding him, mouth slightly parted. “Hey,” he says, in an obvious attempt to sound casual, but his voice cracks.

Kurapika refrains from settling fully against him, instead shifts so his knee rubs pointedly at Leorio’s hip. “Will you take them off _now?”_

“Yeah,” Leorio says, breathless, already squirming up, trying to remove his underwear one-handed. “Yeah, hell yeah.”

He only tangles himself briefly, then gives it up and runs his hands along the back of Kurapika’s thighs, fingers curling inwards to where the skin is most sensitive. Kurapika lets him do it, then turns, arms still settled over Leorio’s shoulders, and brings them both down to the bed.

“You could’ve asked,” Leorio says, braced above him, and Kurapika brings one hand to the back of his neck and kisses him. It’s only another moment of fumbling before Kurapika passes him the condom, wrapping already opened.

For a moment, it seems the positioning will be awkward, but Leorio only leans to one side and reaches down. “Gimme a hand? Just hold the tip-- No, just. Just keep it in place.”

And though he inhales sharply when Kurapika touches him, he is economical in rolling the latex down himself, then outright shudders when Kurapika slides a hand beneath him.

“Cut that out,” he says unevenly when Kurapika circles a thumb and forefinger around him to smooth the condom down again. Then he lowers himself to press his length against Kurapika, hips rolling slowly, and Kurapika bites his lip, hands clenching briefly, tries to readjust to bring Leorio inside him.

Leorio only slides further upwards, grinning down at him. Then he aligns himself with just a brief moment of pressure, nothing more.

“This good?” he says, and Kurapika says, “Yes,” breathless, tries pulling him down, but Leorio only lifts himself out of the way, then laughs and kisses him, slow and unhurried. The man is a tease when he has a mind to be. Kurapika wraps an arm around his shoulders, other hand pressing at his elbow to get it to bend, but he does not budge.

It should be simple. Just a basic application of force, then weight, and let gravity do the rest. Or it would be simple, if only Leorio would move. He hooks one foot against the small of Leorio’s back, tries to pull him down again, with his full weight this time, and Leorio glances down at him, unimpressed. Then he leans to one side, reaching down to settle one hand along Kurapika’s other thigh, guiding it up as he says, “You wanna try two?”

Kurapika does not answer, only swats Leorio’s hand away. He has always been strong, but this is an unexpected display.

Leorio has the gall to laugh at him. “Are you blushing?”

_“How should I know,”_ he retorts, tries to pull Leorio down again, but to no avail.

“Because I’m telling you?” Leorio suggests, all wide eyes and a very terrible attempt at guileless candor.

“Be quiet,” he says, presses his foot against one of Leorio’s knees, trying to shove it out from under him. Nothing. He shoves harder, and Leorio just settles more of his weight onto his elbows and does not otherwise move, grinning all the while. “Stop teasing.”

“Can you ask nicely?”

“No,” Kurapika says, glaring.

“It’s easy. Just say ‘please.’”

“Are you expecting me to beg?”

Leorio has the gall to lean in and kiss him, quick and light, on the cheek, the jaw, the side of his neck. When he glances up again to meet Kurapika’s scowl, he only laughs, and says, “Sure, if you’re into that.” 

Kurapika hooks an arm behind his neck and levers himself up to bite Leorio’s shoulder. Leorio flinches, then says, “Why don’t you try that again later.”

Kurapika freezes, though heat is flooding his face. He declines to meet Leorio’s gaze. “Perhaps I will,” he replies, and he thinks he keeps his voice steady and low. Then, daring greatly, he kisses the beginnings of the mark he left, and settles back onto the bed.

Leorio swallows hard. Then he says softly, “You ready?”

“Yes,” Kurapika says, one hand still curved across the back of Leorio’s neck, other flat against the small of his back. He has been ready since Leorio first looked up and saw him in the hotel lobby. He has been waiting for much longer.

“Sure,” Leorio says, then readjusts and slides full-length into him as Kurapika gasps, hands clenching, hips rocking upwards of their own accord. He feels good. Or like this could feel good. Like they’d never parted ways after the _Black Whale,_ like the second night they could have had, like something he could have carried with him all through the Dark Continent. Something he could have come back to.

He pulls Leorio down against him, legs wide, face pressing against his neck. It could feel good, he decides, but it is strange at first, just some undignified pushing and Leorio’s breathing, his closeness and his warmth. Kurapika angles his hips upwards as Leorio drives his down, then shudders. 

Leorio pauses, leaning to one side so he can gently brush Kurapika’s cheek. “You okay?”

The lean is interesting. It does interesting things to the feeling of Leorio inside him.

“Yes. But could you…” he says, then takes hold of Leorio’s hips and guides him closer, deep and slow; once, twice, again.

Leorio shivers, teeth digging into his lower lip, then says, “Yeah. Yeah, I think we can do that.”

He performs admirably. His pace is steady, and he doesn’t hesitate to push deeper, lingering before pulling back slowly. Kurapika pulls him close, face pressing against his neck. It’s simple, in many ways. To push when Leorio does, to re-adjust and shift to feel the entire length of him. To bring him in slowly, and feel the shift of his breathing, the slight catch at the back of his throat. The heat of him, so near. How he presses, steady and slow.

Plenty of time to acclimate to the sensation. Not an intrusion, but something he invited, someone he welcomed. He resettles his legs by Leorio’s hips, already feeling the shift inside him. It’s easier to think less about when to move, where and how, or at least easier to think more about other things.

Bringing Leorio deeper inside him, for instance. Kurapika brings his hips up and Leorio groans, pushes forward. He is heat and pressure, mouth soft against Kurapika’s, who has turned his face up to be kissed, hands insistent at Leorio’s hips. It seems he is still hesitant, though.

“As you will,” Kurapika says softly.

“Huh?”

“Whatever you want.”

Leorio leans in, head tilting towards him. “Didn’t catch that, could you say it again?”

He swats Leorio’s shoulder, then gasps as Leorio rocks against him. “You’re making this very difficult!” he says in a rush.

“Good.”

“Maybe for you!”

Leorio halts. “Not good for you? You want me to stop?”

“No, I-- Tell me what _you_ want.”

“I’m easy,” Leorio says. “I want to get off, and I want you to feel good. What about you?”

Kurapika stills, looking up at him, but Leorio is only watching him, waiting. He takes a breath, then says, “This is-- This is fine,” and daringly puts his hands around the back of Leorio’s neck, rakes them up into his hair. “This is good.”

“‘I can put up with it’ good or ‘good’ good?”

“You should continue until I tell you to stop,” Kurapika informs him crisply, and Leorio makes a face at him. Then he adds, “I have no intention of telling you to stop.”

“Cool,” Leorio says, lips at his throat. “Let me know what else you want.” Then he sets to work, wholly inside him, deeper than his fingers can reach. A surprise, and a pleasant one, to contain the full length of him, the head rubbing against a sensitive space inside his own body he was not aware of.

His own voice startles him, but Leorio just says, “Yeah?” then runs a hand through his hair and kisses him. It is warm and deep and tender, and he opens to it, unthinking. He could die like this, and be buried content. He could let Leorio do this to him again, if he wanted, over and over and over. Perhaps he could--

He decides to stop thinking about it. Leorio is being particularly helpful in that regard. Easier to sweat and moan with him, though he still feels a fool for making such noises. It is, however, inconsequential. Or at least easily subsumed by others.

If there was a sense of tension before, then it has built again, stronger now, as though he had been pulled tight, then tight again. He is gasping now, short and high in his throat, and Leorio’s hands are settling along the backs of his thighs. Then, slowly, Leorio begins to lever them upwards, and the feeling of him changes. Just a bit, incrementally with each shift, but he pauses and says, “Okay?”

_“Yes,”_ Kurapika says, impatient, brings his knees higher and takes hold of Leorio’s hips, and Leorio says laughing, “Okay, okay,” then thrusts into him again.

Kurapika’s head goes back, teeth clenched, throat locked tight. It is different, though the shift seems so small. Then he gasps, and nearly, Leorio hesitates, nearly asks a ridiculous question, but Kurapika grips his hips hard, pulling him close again, and he resumes. He hooks one elbow beneath Kurapika’s right knee, then leans forward, other hand bracing on his waist to keep him steady.

A strange thing, to feel filled by someone else when there had been no sense of emptiness before. But still, it is undeniably Leorio thick and heavy inside him, sweating above him, and he is reaching to take hold of Leorio’s wrist, trying to pull him closer when the sense of tension seems to snap and he biting his lip, grip tight as Leorio still rides him, approaching climax himself.

Then he nearly drops, as though struck, though his hips still move, still pumping unevenly, and it’s tolerable, even pleasant; a gentler echo of the orgasm they have worked through. Leorio settles against him, breathing hard, presses close and needy. Which is workable. He still has one leg hitched over Leorio’s hip, rocks insistently against him. It seems a shame, to have it end so soon.

He rides out one secondary wave of pleasure, is on the verge of another when Leorio shudders, gasping, then says, “Okay, no more of that,” one hand pushing against his hip. 

He slows reluctantly, then stills when Leorio makes a small strangled sound, teeth grit. “I apologize.”

“No, it’s good. I’m just… no more right now.” He strokes Kurapika’s shoulder and says, softer, “I’m pulling out now.”

He takes his time, easing out with one hand on Kurapika the entire way, other hand on the condom as he sits back. Then he pulls the condom off to tie a knot in it, and tosses it over the side of the bed.

Kurapika frowns at him, but does not bother sitting up. “Leorio,” he says, trying for reproving, and Leorio just shrugs, dropping heavily back onto the bed beside him.

“I’ll get it later. Don’t like it, then just don’t step on it.”

“That’s not the issue here.”

“Interesting,” Leorio says, puts his arms around him and pulls him close. “Don’t care.”

Semen is dribbling onto his leg, and he makes a soft disgusted sound, reaches down to wipe it off himself and onto Leorio’s hip. Leorio scoffs, then folds the thin liner sheet between them and pulls him close again. Acceptable. Then Leorio leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head. Also acceptable.

‘I enjoyed that,’ he does not say, because Leorio would tease him, or respond in kind, or… well. He doesn’t know, he only knows that it wouldn’t sound right, or mean what he wanted it to say.

“This is nice,” Leorio says drowsily. Of course it sounds fine when he says it.

Kurapika presses his face to Leorio’s chest. There’s nothing he can say here. He doesn’t trust himself to speak. It is good to be near him though, for whatever measure of good is still left to him. It serves no purpose. They could wake up tomorrow and discover it was only one in a long series of mistakes. But he still will have had this now, and it will have been good.

“You think so _loud,”_ Leorio says, groaning, then rolls partway on top of him. Kurapika grunts, tries to push him aside, but he will not be dissuaded. Instead, he hooks one arm behind Kurapika’s neck, then kisses his forehead patronizingly.

Kurapika grumbles, because Leorio is heavy and sweat-damp and much too warm, but each time he makes to push him off, Leorio only settles heavier, curls a little closer. He gives it up in the interest of being able to breathe, head settled in the crook between Leorio’s shoulder and neck, face turned towards him. It could be worse.

He breathes in, breathes out, then brings one hand up to rest against Leorio’s back. It could be much worse. At the very least, there is nothing that will hurt him here. At the very least, Leorio is here, within arm’s reach, safe. After a moment, he shuts his eyes, and exhales deep and slow.

It doesn’t seem anything changes, but Leorio says, as though satisfied, _“There_ we go,” brings a hand up to cup the back of his head, fingers raking through his hair.

Kurapika turns, has no reason to brush his hand away. Leorio resettles his hand, and it is a better fit. Good, then. He is warm. Leorio is heavy, but tolerable. It is not as strange as he feared it might have been, being close enough to feel him breathing again. The slow steady beat of his heart.

He must doze, because he opens his eyes later to find himself groggy and disoriented. The room smells of sweat and sex and mid-grade cologne. It should be concerning, but Leorio is still beside him, arms loose around him, still breathing slow and easy. He glances up.

Leorio seems asleep, eyes shut, mouth slightly parted, breathing slow and even. He could instead have his head thrown back, mouth open, chest heaving, hands on Kurapika’s hips or restlessly arrayed above him or--

But this is also good. In a different way. He has such a mobile face, usually. It is strange to see it at rest.

Kurapika shifts slightly. When this gains him nothing, he says, “Leorio,” and the arms around him tighten for a moment.

“Mm?”

“Do you have another condom?”

Leorio cracks an eye open to squint at him. “What are you planning?”

“Just asking.”

“It’s never ‘just asking’ with you,” Leorio says, then shuts his eye again. “Yeah, I’ve got some. You gotta let me rest first, though. I’m beat.”

“What if,” Kurapika begins, then hesitates.

Leorio just yawns and says, “‘What if’ what?”

“Would it be more restful for you if I took the lead?”

“Uh?”

“If you could stay where you are? Against the bed?”

Leorio is immediately much more awake. “You saying you wanna top?”

Kurapika winces, buries his face against Leorio’s chest. “Possibly.”

“Hey, what?” Leorio says, laughing and pulling the rest of him closer. “Are you _embarrassed?”_

_“No.”_

“Yeah? Nothing to be embarrassed about. You wanna _ride me?_ You wanna fuck me right into the mattress? You wanna pound me into the sheets?”

“Leorio!” he snaps, then squirms. Leorio’s hands are roaming now, sliding lazy and warm along his back and sides. He leans back to glare up at Leorio, bodies pressing together, and says, “You are _insufferable.”_

“You’re blushing.”

“So are you.”

“That a ‘yes’?”

He hooks a leg over Leorio’s, still scowling. Leorio just laughs at him, hand sliding over his thigh, then leans in to kiss him.

It seems Leorio overestimated how much he needed the rest. Only fifteen minutes pass before he is sitting up in bed, saying, “No, not that pocket, the other one. No-- Look, can you just bring it here?”

Kurapika continues digging in the wrong section of the bag. He suspects Leorio knows perfectly well that he understands the condoms are in the front zipper pocket.

Leorio grumbles to himself, then swings his feet onto the floor, shuffling across the carpet toward Kurapika and the bag. He is nearly there when Kurapika stands and turns to face him, condoms and a tiny bottle of lubricant in one hand. It seems Leorio came well-prepared. Kurapika considers being annoyed by it, lifting his chin to meet Leorio’s gaze.

Leorio examines him frankly up and down, then purses his mouth at Kurapika’s handful, tips his head towards it. “Didn’t take you for a tease.”

“Not usually,” he says, cheeks and neck burning. Leorio, thankfully, does not mention it, though he can surely see it.

“Just me then, huh?” he says instead, making a face. “Lucky me.”

His tone is wry but his mouth is pleased, and when Kurapika leans up, Leorio kisses him. Then he cups Kurapika’s face in one hand and says, “You’re pretty cute like this.”

Kurapika brings a hand down on his elbow to make it drop, then says, “Get back on the bed.”

“Rude.”

“Please.”

This time, Leorio laughs and says, “Sure.” Then he stoops and hoists Kurapika up as he gasps, indignant, heaves him partway over his right shoulder, one arm behind Kurapika’s knees. “Let’s go.”

Kurapika squirms as Leorio carries him off, shoves at his head, but Leorio remains unmoved. He hisses, “You savage!” levers himself back to glower down, but Leorio only sneers back, then grins, knowing and broad. Kurapika grumbles to himself, tries to shove free again, but to no avail. It is possible he is just not trying hard enough.

Besides, they’ve already reached the bed.

He expects to be dropped, is braced for it, but instead finds himself lowered incrementally, and carefully settled on the disarrayed sheets. Then Leorio drops on the bed beside him, settling in and turning towards Kurapika, naked and smiling and eager. Kurapika puts one hand around the back of his neck, draws him close. No reason to keep him waiting any longer. 

He enjoys being cupped and stroked, likes it when Kurapika touches him unexpectedly: while kissing him, while speaking to him, while he is fumbling for the remote so he can turn off the television. 

He is fully erect in short order, and from there it is a simple task. They have done this before.

He leaves the condoms on the nightstand before sliding his hand between Kurapika’s legs, fingers stroking first at the outer lips, then slowly working his way in. He is thoughtful, at least, but also too slow. Kurapika takes his wrist and pulls it aside before taking hold of his shoulders and pushing him back against the bed.

“Put this on,” he says, handing Leorio a condom, and Leorio snorts a laugh, looking up at him from the sheets.

“No sense of timing,” he says, then goes to tear it open. His fingers slip, and Kurapika considers them, then flushes. Thankfully, Leorio does not seem to notice.

“Shit,” Leorio says, then takes it between his teeth. “Hang on.”

He tears it open, wrapper tossed over the side of the bed, and Kurapika suppresses a sigh. Cleaning up is going to be a process. Leorio pays him no mind, is shuffling back upright, muttering, “It’s way harder lying down.”

“I don’t see the difficulty.”

“Then you do it,” Leorio says, and it has more invitation in it than challenge, and Kurapika glances down at him, then says, “No, thank you.”

Leorio scoffs at him, then finishes outfitting himself. “See? Way easier sitting up.”

“If you say so,” Kurapika says, doubtful, then settles one hand on his thigh. “Stay still.”

Leorio does not, shifting restlessly until Kurapika settles both hands over his shoulders. Then he breathes in sharply as Kurapika swings one leg over to straddle him, doesn’t settle immediately. For a moment, Kurapika stays up on his knees, looking down at him.

Leorio’s entire attention is fixed on him, expression rapt. Kurapika inhales, unsteady though he has no reason to be, then pulls him close, settles his chin over Leorio’s shoulder.

Leorio chuckles to himself, face pressing against Kurapika’s, then says, ”Shy?”

“Hardly,” Kurapika says, both arms around his shoulders. “Be quiet.”

“Nervous?”

He sits up and back, aware of Leorio’s erection, though he refuses to look down. “A little of both. Please _be quiet.”_

“How quiet?”

“Stop speaking unless it’s to tell me how to fuck you.”

Leorio stills, then pulls back, a giant grin slowly spreading over his face.

“Sure,” he says, hands on Kurapika’s hips, slowly guiding him down. “Whatever you say.”

He speaks less, but still makes his appreciation known. His breathing deepens, goes harsh, mouth parting as his hips shift, rocking up beneath Kurapika’s. It is simple then, to push back against him, and either learn or establish the rhythm. They have some mismatch to begin, but then Leorio says, “Here,” settling back against the bed and bringing Kurapika to lean over him.

Easier, then, to ride him, and feel the way he twitches and shifts and sighs, how bearing down and clenching will make him bite his lip, what touch will make him groan and say soft things, little fragments of words, half-sentences, sometimes his name.

Kurapika looks down at him, reaching to take his wrists. Each of these things is something to cherish. He resolves to wring more from Leorio, then brings his wrists up, pins them just above his head, and Leorio lets him, only shifts beneath him and flicks him an anticipatory glance. Then he strains upwards to press a kiss to Kurapika’s inner forearm.

Kurapika inhales sharply. It is sensitive skin. A great deal of him is sensitive now. “If that’s how you want it,” he says, words nearly caught in his throat.

“Sure is,” Leorio says, grinning at him lazy and wide. Very well, then.

Kurapika resettles his weight, legs shifting wider, then begins to move. He’s learned enough to catch Leorio off-guard, to shift the rhythm in a way that makes him shudder and moan. All the while, Leorio is also moving beneath him, trying to rock up against him, trying in his own way to do the same: To divine some new secret of either of their bodies. To make the other capitulate first. Or to know, in either instance, that they had created their intent, then achieved it.

This maneuvering too is its own form of satisfaction. Even more so with Leorio stretched out before him, wrists twisting in his grasp. Leorio could certainly pull free, if he so chose. Each time he lifts his hands, however, Kurapika easily pins them back down.

It takes little time before Leorio is a long taut curve beneath him, gasping, head thrown back and hands reaching. 

“Just a little more, Kurapika,” he’s _begging,_ voice cracking at the edges. Kurapika looks down at him and tightens his hold, does not voice his approval. More is agreeable. More is fine.

There is an area that is especially sensitive, that sends a jolt through him each time Leorio presses against it, each time Kurapika rocks forward to take in the entire length of him. If he can just prolong the sensation, or build upon it, then--

Certainly something happens, makes him shudder and groan as Leorio gasps beneath him, but there’s no release. All of the swollen pressure, and none of the satisfaction, but perhaps with just a little more...

Then he makes a sharp, tight noise, high in the back of his throat, back arched though nothing changed, legs tight, hips still and unwilling to move. There is too much inside him, and no easy way to move. His hands loosen, arms folding limp and loose before him as he tries to breathe. Leorio starts to sit up, stops at his grimace.

Carefully, Leorio reaches up. “You good?” he says, one hand sweeping the hair back from Kurapika’s face, other patting his cheek.

Kurapika’s chest heaves. It is too much, he wants more of it, he wants those hands on him everywhere, and it is too much. He gulps in air, can’t hold it, his breathing a thin, reedy thing, and he thinks he would like to cry. His hands are shaking. He clenches them, but he can’t make them stop.

“Hey, get off,” Leorio tells him, but his tone is gentle. “Come on, get off.”

“I don’t--”

“No, really, I mean-- Here,” Leorio says, then takes hold of his hips and eases him up, hands tightening when his knees shake. For an instant, it seems Leorio has somehow become too large, that he will not be able to slide free. Then there is a moment of pressure, and he is unbearably empty. He clenches his jaw, does not make a sound.

Instead he settles on the mattress beside Leorio, drops his head to Leorio’s shoulder, still can’t quite catch his breath. Embarrassing, really.

“That was nice while it lasted,” Leorio says, voice rough and uneven and clearly disappointed.

Then he clears his throat and says again, gentler, “That was nice while it lasted.” He lifts a hand to cup Kurapika’s face, light and steady and warm. “You okay?”

It would be easy, so easy, to say something now he may later regret. He turns to press his lips to Leorio’s palm instead. “I am,” he says quietly, chest full and tight. Then he shuts his eyes, tries to concentrate on his breathing.

“Yeah?” Leorio has one hand at his waist. Kurapika is still listening to the sound of his own pulse when there’s a small, uneven inhale from Leorio. When he looks, Leorio’s right hand is on his phallus, thumb rubbing over the head. Leorio goes still, and Kurapika does not look up, doesn’t close his eyes again either.

Finally, Leorio says, “Is it cool if I tug myself off?”

Such a proposition. “That’s fine,” Kurapika says softly, then starts as Leorio makes to stand, fumbles for his wrist. “Will you stay here?”

Leorio hesitates. After a moment, he says, uncertain for the first time, “You wanna watch?”

“I would--” Kurapika begins, doesn’t know how to finish, then doesn’t have to. He shuts his mouth and lets the words linger.

Leorio doesn’t speak for a while, and Kurapika doesn’t dare look. He could take back the question. He won’t ask if he should. Perhaps they could stay here, in this fragile moment, until possibly they can both drop the subject and pretend it never happened. Unlikely, given both their temperaments. But it would be nice.

Then Leorio says, “Okay.”

He slides back slightly, as though offering a better view of his ‘member,’ swollen and flushed and vaguely ridiculous. Kurapika leans on his shoulder, and considers it. Proportional for his size, circumsized, listing very slightly to the left. His pubic hair is dark and untidy now, damp and slightly crusted, not quite covering two perfectly normal testicles.

“It’s kinda weird with you just watching me,” Leorio says, reaching for the lube and casting him a dubious glance.

Kurapika shrugs, shifts slightly closer. “What would make it less strange?” he says, cheek nearly pressed to Leorio’s.

“Well--” Leorio begins, and Kurapika kisses the corner of his mouth. “I mean, yeah--” he says, and Kurapika kisses him again, and Leorio pulls away laughing and indignant.

“Sure, that’s a good _start--”_ he says, and Kurapika settles both hands on his shoulders and kisses him full on the mouth. 

“Yeah, okay,” Leorio says, when he is released, mouth slightly parted, lips wet. He licks them regardless, unthinking. “Yeah, I can get into that.”

Then, slowly, he leans forward again, and Kurapika kisses him, slowly, enjoying the feel of him, the slight uneven vocalizations at the back of his throat, the way he shifts and readjusts and puts one hand to the small of Kurapika’s back, as though to keep him in place. He must begin to touch himself again, because his breathing goes ragged, and there is the slick wet sound of his hand moving.

Kurapika settles one hand on his thigh, feels the muscles bunch and shift beneath his touch, slides it slowly upwards. Not so long after, he reaches the lowest line of Leorio’s hip. Leorio holds his breath, goes still. 

Then he says softly, “Whatcha thinking?”

“I am thinking,” Kurapika says, then brushes one fingertip against the base of his erection, “That I would like to keep touching you.”

“Uh.”

“Let me,” he says quietly. “Please.”

He has no sweetness to give, not like Leorio does, all flirtation and soft touches and long looks, but he can at least do this.

Leorio casts him a dubious glance. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Like, really sure? Because I don’t know how good your handjob game is, and I definitely want to get off soonish.”

“If it’s not to your satisfaction, then you can resume,” Kurapika informs him crisply.

“‘Not to my satisfaction,’” Leorio mutters, but slides towards him. “What is this, am I getting a survey at the end? Rank your handjob from one to five? I mean-- Okay. I guess that’s okay.” He inhales deep, lets it out unevenly. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Lie down,” Kurapika says softly, and Leorio does, mouth slightly parted. Kurapika settles next to him, one knee hitched over his, still stroking him slowly. 

It’s easier to see him like this, the entire expanse of his chest and shoulders, stomach and hips, legs somewhere off in the corner of his vision. He has some scars, most small and all negligible, as he has survived them all. Some, Kurapika knows the origin of: The line from Hisoka’s card along his left arm. A scrape from an ungainly fall later in the exam, on the island. Tiny puncture wounds, paired, from the snakes.

Embarrassing after the fact, that he had been willing to bargain away all their badges for the antidote. He had not been thinking. Yet he might have done the same, even with the opportunity to consider all their options. He had not anticipated meeting anyone he might care for in the course of the exam, let alone three, but if he’d had to, he would have made the same trade for any of them. He suspects Leorio might have as well. It is an understanding they have: No one else. 

Leorio might have died there, and yet.

There is a touch on his shoulder, Leorio settling an arm around him and pulling him near. “Don’t get distracted.”

“Was I?”

“A little. Hurry up, or I’m revoking handjob privileges.”

He might have died there and yet, here he is, being a nuisance. Kurapika slides his hand up slowly, thumb rubbing against the head, then leans forward and kisses him. For right now, it will have to suffice. That they are both here, and willing, and in many senses, eager.

Leorio settles one hand over his, says hoarsely, “Just a little more,” his eyes dark and gleaming. He begins to guide Kurapika’s hand along his erection, adjusting the speed, hand tightening slightly towards the top then again at the base. It is _annoying,_ but the results are pleasant.

For instance, Leorio’s head goes back and he is panting in short, sharp bursts, occasionally biting his lip. The jerking of his hips becomes more pronounced, then erratic. He is flushed from shoulders to hairline, skin darkened, hair an untidy mess. He is splayed back on the bed now, chest heaving, and Kurapika presses against him and carefully settles one hand alongside his face. It is sweat-sheened and very warm, and after a moment, Kurapika carefully strokes his thumb along Leorio’s cheekbone.

He is unprepared for Leorio to turn into the touch, then to tilt his head and take Kurapika’s thumb into his mouth. It is warm and wet, the pressure of his lips an entirely different thing from the press of his tongue, and another sensation altogether when he begins to suck, as though eager to taste as much as he can of Kurapika’s skin.

Absurd, for something so small to be so intriguing. His hand slows on Leorio’s cock, and Leorio makes a small dissatisfied grunt, slides his own hand beneath to resume stroking himself. That’s fine.

Kurapika presses his thumb in briefly, to enjoy the way Leorio shuts his eyes and licks broad and slow along the whole length of it, then pulls it out slowly so he can lean in and replace it with his tongue. Leorio opens just as readily to this, head going back as Kurapika presses forward, a slight panting moan beginning at the back of his throat. His hand is moving faster now, and Kurapika settles himself against Leorio’s thigh, brings both his hands up to rake through Leorio’s hair and bring him close, hold him in place.

Leorio groans at that, his left arm coming up to settle around Kurapika’s hips, thigh lifting to press against him, and Kurapika tightens one hand in his hair in warning, pulls free long enough to say, “Don’t.”

“Sorry--”

“Just you,” Kurapika tells him, kisses him hard and fast, hand loosening, and Leorio startles at that but does not protest, only pants desperate into Kurapika’s mouth. No reason to explain further, so he occupies himself with continuing to kiss Leorio instead, hands trailing down to explore the feel of him. He traces one nipple, firm and peaked, then slides further down to the muscles that contract in Leorio’s abdomen as his breath hitches, hips working.

Kurapika continues touching him, one hand at the back of his neck now, other sliding over his hip then lightly brushing fingertips along his inner thigh. Leorio moans at that, is pumping himself faster, harder. He will not appreciate interference, so Kurapika reaches beneath him instead to cup his testicles, skin gone taut, and he cries out, strangled and low.

Then he reaches up with his free hand to pull Kurapika against him, face burying against his neck, breathing uneven, mouth working as though he is trying to speak. Kurapika continues to fondle him, to hear how he gasps and moans, makes an assortment of other small sounds that could either be curse or prayer. When he reaches his fingers further back, to brush against the delicate skin behind the testicles, rest of his hand still cupped around them, Leorio arches, erection thick, grip hard. He has his eyes shut tight, mouthing words though his throat is clenched, hand working desperately.

And then he is wheezing, dropping back onto the bed, hips still working and hand still pumping weakly. Kurapika slides his hand back up, palms Leorio as he shudders his way through the end of his climax. It’s simple, pressure along the shaft, plus a stroke to the head, and he is still spilling. Less now, and it is nearly over, pooling at his belly and threatening to drip down either side.

Then he is panting, turning back towards Kurapika, one hand over his and pulling it aside, other draped over his shoulder. They are close, but still Leorio is fumbling closer to kiss him, to kiss any part of him he can reach. His forehead, mostly. Kurapika leans up briefly to accommodate him, but Leorio’s lips over his are too restless, nearly jittery. So he settles against Leorio again instead, mouthes his throat to make him moan.

But then Leorio stills and only lies there, languorous and spent, radiating heat like an oven. It is quiet save for his breathing, but eventually it evens out, and he swallows, jaw working, then swallows again.

“Let me go wash my hands,” he says, voice rough but his mouth soft against Kurapika’s forehead, where he kisses him once, lightly. Then he reaches to draw the comforter up around Kurapika before standing and making his way to the bathroom. 

Kurapika props himself upright to track him, then grimaces. He doesn’t not appreciate the view, but it seems… inconsiderate. Some might say it is an excellent view. He settles back against the bed, considers the notion.

Leorio’s head pops out from the bathroom. “What?”

“Nothing!”

“Thought you said--”

He said _nothing._ “Mind your own business!”

Leorio just gives him a long sly look, then says, “Sure,” and retreats inside. 

He is back shortly, hands damp, throws back the sheets and slides onto the more pristine side of the bed. Then he gathers Kurapika close to him, lips pressingly briefly to his forehead before he settles Kurapika beneath his chin and holds him, only holds him. Kurapika shuts his eyes, settles an arm over Leorio’s side to keep himself steady. He should wash as well, but it seems too much trouble. He just won’t touch anything.

After a while, Leorio says hoarsely, “I’m so glad you’re here.” It is obvious that his breathing is becoming uneven, though his orgasm is well over. Obvious too that he is trying to hide it.

Then he sighs, breathes deep again and holds it, squeezing Kurapika against himself. Then he exhales slowly, though his grip does not relent. Kurapika glances up, but Leorio only leans towards him, obstructing his view. Very well, then.

Kurapika settles against him again, face pressing against Leorio’s chest. There is nothing to say. Still, he replies, “I am also grateful to you,” and they both ignore how his voice shakes. He does not move as Leorio lifts one hand, shuts his eyes as Leorio carefully brushes back his hair.

It is a pleasant touch. He sighs, and shifts to resettle Leorio’s arm. His front is warm, but his back is not, and he is disinclined to stand just so he can turn off the air conditioner.

“Cold?” Leorio says, then is pulling the disarrayed covers up again, over them both. He lies back down, hands settling on Kurapika again, briefly rubbing at his upper arms and back. This is also a welcome touch. Kurapika leans into him, then says, “Here,” and turns to offer more of his back to be touched. 

Leorio makes a small sound, somewhere between annoyance and amusement, then says, “Fine.”

He goes slowly now, longer, broader strokes down most of Kurapika’s back, then his sides, and while the cold is no longer an issue, Kurapika does not tell him to stop. Lazily, he runs one finger down the length of Leorio’s spine, smiles at how he twitches.

Then Leorio is tracing the line of Kurapika’s hip, and Kurapika tilts his head back to eye him. 

“Just returning the favor,” Leorio says, kisses him. Then he adds, “Unless maybe you don’t want to get off…?”

“Don’t ask leading questions,” Kurapika tells him, frowning. “Yes, you should touch me.”

“Just touch?”

“You should touch me as thoroughly as humanly feasible. Make it good.”

And he does.

Each time, it seems to become easier when Leorio touches him. Easier to lean towards him, hips canting upwards, to settle against his hands and be touched, gently at first, and shallow. Then deeper, deeper, his fingertips pressing harder, a third finger added after a brief touch. It is a different sensation than his erection, but still-- But still--

Equally stimulating. He gasps hard, nearly a wheeze, then curls closer to Leorio, face to his throat, one hand in his hair, other at the back of his arm, both to pull him closer and to feel the twitch of the small muscles working inside him now. When he moans, small and tight, Leorio kisses his forehead, says quietly, “Let me know what you want,” then presses deeper inside him.

He does not speak, but surprises himself twisting and arching for more. Anything Leorio can give him, he will take, and gladly, but if it could just be a little more… Just a little further. Just a little harder.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Leorio is saying, over and over again. “Shhh shh shhsh shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He does, is close and reassuring and warm, fingers still pressing deep, and Kurapika bucks against him, mouth open, the sounds he is making nothing close to speech. That’s fine. It’s truly fine.

Then Leorio’s fingers curve and stroke, one spot, light quick motions, and it is such a small motion to be a full body sensation, but there it is, nothing else but the feeling, almost, of burning. Impossible to contain it. So instead he pulls Leorio tight against him, legs winding about him, one arm hooked behind his neck, unable to keep from moaning as Leorio gladly draws closer and quietly urges him on, telling him too much about how he feels now, how he looks, how he sounds. How much Leorio likes it, and what it makes him want to do next. It should be embarrassing.

It is not. More like fuel to the fire, he thinks absently, then quickly stops thinking at all. He presses his face to Leorio, briefly sinks his teeth into his shoulder, but it does not stop the overwhelming fullness of the sensation, nor his reactions to it.

The orgasm, when it comes, is unexpected, only impulse and heat along all the lines and joins of his body. 

_“Leorio,”_ he gasps against his skin, because at that moment, it is all he knows: Leorio next to him, above him, inside him. Then he is back in the hotel bed, naked and sweating and still being gently stroked as he comes back to himself.

He does not lift his head. When he shifts, Leorio’s fingers slow, then still and slide out from him. “You okay?”

Hard to answer. After considering, he manages to lift a hand and pat Leorio’s shoulder twice. It’s a gesture of camaraderie. All is well between them.

Leorio snorts, then says, “Yeah, good job to you too, buddy,” before kissing his forehead and sitting up. Kurapika glances over, drops an arm over his eyes to shield them from the bedside lamp. They should have turned those off.

Leorio doesn’t seem to notice or mind. “Water?” he says, doesn’t wait for an answer before he twists to take a bottle from the nightstand, pass it over uncapped. 

Kurapika manages a swallow, then hands it back. His hands are unsteady. The water is still a bit cold. He doesn’t want any. “Done with me already?”

“Nah,” Leorio says, still sitting up after putting the water away. Then he turns back to survey Kurapika, which is satisfactory, because now he is blocking the light from the lamp. “What do you want?”

“You,” Kurapika says softly, mouth slack, limbs loose, and he is warm all through. He has been cast and recast so many times, has kept his shape but is brittle all through, but at least this part has stayed true.

Rare to see Leorio speechless. He rather enjoys it.

Then Leorio clears his throat and looks aside. “I can work with that.”

\----

“Hey. I have to go.”

Kurapika frowns, doesn’t open his eyes. This is against protocol. “Did you notify HR?” he mutters. He should figure out who it was later and have them fired. No one’s vacation is worth this.

“Oh, wow. Kurapika, are you even awake?”

Well that’s. An unusual response.

Unwillingly, he opens his eyes, squinting into the semi-gloom of a curtained room. Leorio is standing half-dressed beside the bed with an expression of poorly concealed glee. He himself is in a complete state of undress. He sits bolt upright, comforter dragged partway up before he realizes how the situation must have come about. Then he remembers, and flushes. He does not lower the comforter.

“Too late,” Leorio says, grinning. “I’ve already seen it all. Shirt’s here, though.”

Kurapika cranes his head over to see where Leorio is pointing, then gestures impatiently for it. He said too much last night. He did too much, it was-- He got carried away.

His shirt hits him in the face. He lets it drop, then glares at Leorio, who is snickering to himself.

“Dunno what to say. You let that happen,” Leorio says, apparently much too easy to amuse.

“I was distracted,” Kurapika says stiffly, and Leorio just laughs at him again.

“By what?”

He could lie. He too has his own tasks to attend to; he could be thinking of any one of these. Instead he stares back at Leorio in silence, then looks aside. Leorio guffaws, then goes to pick up a fresh article of clothing from one of the room’s chairs, circles back to the nightstand.

For an accessory he forgot, Kurapika assumes, until Leorio leans into his field of vision and says, “You can get a closer look if you want.”

Kurapika shoves him back, face burning. Leorio is still laughing to himself as he searches for his tie, then crouches to retrieve it from nearly beneath the bed. He examines it, then makes a small noise, nearly tosses it aside before reconsidering. After a moment, he stands again, loosely winding it about his hands and says, “Hey, so…”

“I thought you had to leave,” Kurapika says, looking pointedly at the door.

“Whatever,” Leorio says, rolling his eyes. “Look at you, listening when it suits you. This is important.”

“So spit it out already.”

“Jackass,” Leorio says, frowning. Then he reaches forward and settles a hand on Kurapika’s shoulder, expression softening. “This isn’t the last time I’m gonna see you, right?”

“Sorry?”

“You’re not going to… to pull a you, and disappear for another two years, right? Like maybe this freaked you out, or maybe you don’t really want this, or maybe you just get caught up in something else and this-- We-- You know, me, and Gon, and Killua. And we’re just. On the backburner again. That’s not gonna happen, right?”

“No!” Kurapika blurts, then stiffens, pulls back. He didn’t mean to speak so loudly.

Something in Leorio’s expression eases, but the curve of his mouth is still uncertain when he says, “Okay.” Then he adds, “Good, because Gon and Killua would probably both like to hear from you sometime. Even though I’m pretty sure you call them more than you call me.”

“You call me much more than you call them,” Kurapika retorts.

“Well, yeah. _Obviously._ They’re still just kids, there’s just stuff that’s easier to talk with you about.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know!” Leorio says, annoyed suddenly. “Just stuff. Killua doesn’t care about school anything, and Gon has his own homework to worry about.”

“I see. So you’d rather complain to me instead?”

“No, I mean-- I guess, yeah. But also you were a good study buddy last time. So, you know, if you’re ever around… maybe you could help me out?”

Kurapika has a dozen sharp replies ready (he is not a tutor, surely Leorio has other peers, surely Leorio knows he has better things to do with his time, surely they both have more pressing concerns), then stops. Looks again at Leorio, who has never asked for help, only for opportunity. Yes. That is something he could do. What’s more, he would do it gladly.

He frowns. He is not displeased, only unsettled. “How is it that you always manage to surprise me?”

“Eh. You probably just don’t expect a lot from me.”

“That’s not true!” Leorio glances at him, raising his eyebrows, and Kurapika winces, amends, “Anymore.”

“Hm. Should’ve just stuck with the first one.”

“Our first impressions were not favorable,” Kurapika admits, then rubs his forehead. “I will not underestimate you again so badly.”

“You better not,” Leorio says, then drops onto the bed across from him. Kurapika shifts uneasily, pulls the blankets closer to himself. It’s a vaguely ridiculous scene, one of only half-dressed and the other not dressed at all, but it’s hard to find any humor in it when he is inextricably involved.

Then Leorio says, with unusual gravitas, “You’re never surprised when I’m looking out for other people. I think you’re just surprised when someone’s looking out for you.”

“I--” Kurapika says, then stops. It is not true, but he doesn’t know how to deny it. “I don’t think… _No.”_

“Kinda, yeah. I mean, I get it. You were on your own for a while.”

“Yes.”

“And I don’t mean to dig up any bad memories, but you were kinda distant then, and you’re still distant now. You’re just really used to doing everything on your own.”

“Yes,” he says again, then presses his hands against the bridge of his nose. “Leorio, I don’t think this is the right time--”

“When is the right time?” Leorio demands, then sighs. Gentler, he says, “No, I know. I’m just really ready to talk about this, even if you aren’t. But we can just take it slow. What do you think?”

“I think,” Kurapika says, then laughs, short and embarrassed. “I think I would like to have pants on before answering this question.”

“Oh hey, my bad. No, take your time. Maybe… talk later?”

“Maybe,” he says, doesn’t miss how Leorio’s expression shifts slightly, though he does a good job hiding it. It’s only a flicker of his eyelids, a slight shift of his mouth.

“Or, you know, we don’t have to talk later.”

“I think we should talk later,” Kurapika says firmly, hands clenched and sweating.

“Okay,” Leorio says, then thankfully gets up and resumes getting dressed.

“Don’t wait for me.”

“Who’s waiting?” Leorio retorts. “I just haven’t found anyone I like better yet.”

“Maybe you’re not looking hard enough,” Kurapika says, sharper than he intended.

Leorio flicks a glance at him, then rolls his eyes and says, “Fine. You got any leads, you point’em my way. What about that hot blonde you work with?”

“No.”

“C’mon, gimme their number.”

“No.”

“Okay,” Leorio says easily, then, “What about your email?”

This old saw. Exasperated, Kurapika says, “Just ask Gon!”

“I want it from you,” Leorio says, implacable and totally unreasonable. “What’s your email?”

“Ask again later.”

Leorio considers, measuring him. After a moment, he only says, “Sure,” tone and expression neutral. Then he pulls on his pants and says, “Anyway, dinner later? Not as a date, just as a ‘I need to eat and I guess you do too and you’re the only other person I know in this city’ kind of thing.”

“How flattering.”

“Shut up, don’t make it weird. It’s not weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Kurapika agrees, heat rising in his face. “It’s very normal, actually.”

“That’s me,” Leorio says, grimacing. “The normal guy.”

“I didn’t mean--”

“No, no, it’s fine. You all are up to your big life quests, and I’m just here, being me.”

“I’ve always thought that you were extraordinary.”

“Gee, thanks,” Leorio says grudgingly. “Extra ordinary. Just what I thought.”

Kurapika _tsks._ “‘Extra’ as in ‘beyond’ or ‘surpassing.’ You’ve never been ordinary, Leorio. Extraordinarily irritating--”

“Hey!”

“Or so I thought. But also extraordinarily generous to your friends. Extraordinarily dedicated to your dream. Extraordinarily kind,” he says, then drops his gaze. He really should have saved this for when they were both fully dressed.

He fiddles with a corner of the comforter, resisting the urge to pull it all the way up to his chest again, then says quietly, “At least to me.”

When he glances up again, Leorio is standing very still, watching him intently. His shirt is still only half-buttoned, tie loose around his neck. “You’re gonna make me late for my meeting.”

Kurapika forces a smile. “Wouldn’t that be a pity.”

“Not really,” Leorio says, unusually quiet. “I really… Kurapika, I really wanna stay, but that’s not taking it slow, huh.”

Slowly, Kurapika says, “I have never been accused of being good at sticking to the plan.”

Leorio scoffs, finishes buttoning his shirt before stooping to pick up his belt. “Are you kidding me? That’s all you do, plan and scheme and overthink and scheme some more.”

“That’s not true,” Kurapika says sharply, and Leorio scoffs again, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah it is.”

“When is your meeting?”

Leorio flicks him a glance, but lets him have it. “10. It’s not that far, but I haven’t been there before and it’s a big complex.”

“You should go.”

“Yeah,” Leorio says reluctantly, then pulls on his belt, then blazer. He adjusts his shirt cuffs and says, “Dinner later, though?”

“Yes.”

Leorio makes a final adjustment in the mirror, straightens his tie and his name badge, then approaches the bed again. He doesn’t say anything, just lightly rests the edge of his hand against Kurapika’s shoulder and leans in to press a kiss to the top of his head.

Kurapika goes still, but that doesn’t stop the sudden heat, from his shoulders all the way up. It could be many things. Embarrassment. Anger. Fear. Desire. Annoyance.

“See you later,” Leorio says and hurries away, jamming his feet into his shoes and nearly catching his bag in the door as he exits.

Kurapika stays where he is, heart pounding. Who else has touched him so gently? Melody, sometimes. Sparingly. Mizaistom once, to get his attention on a stakeout. Another doctor, a stranger, when she was examining his arm during the expedition.

He takes a glance at the bedside clock, then hisses as he rubs his forehead, raking both hands through his hair as he stands. He has his own meeting to attend, and he’ll have to be ready soon.

None of the clothes he was wearing last night will be useable. He digs through his suitcase and assembles something presentable, though the shirt wants ironing, and he has never liked ties. Briefly, he considers leaving it, but first impressions are important. He sighs, then settles one on top of the dresser, hangs the shirt so it will steam in the bathroom as he showers, does the same for his pants. That is nearly all that he has to do. But there is one thing left he has been putting off.

He gives it up and searches for his phone, locates it in his jacket pocket. For a while, he only stands beside the chair his jacket was strewn over, deliberating. Then he grits his teeth and carefully texts Leorio,

‘It’s a date.’

And presses ‘Send.’

Leorio must still be en route to his meeting, because the notification that he is typing pops up immediately. Kurapika sets his phone face-down on the table, goes to shower and get ready as it begins to buzz. 

This too could be normal. He would like that.


End file.
